?
Hope you don't mind the commenting, dear. It's in fun and I wouldn't do it if I
didn't like the spec. =)
I used to do this w/ FoL but since he's not here anymore... *sniffle, sob*...
sorry, got nostalgic there for a bit. =) >I tried posting this once, but for
some reason it isn't up there. *sigh* Oh, well. Here it is again, and if it's
already up, then blame the computers, not me. I already get my paws slapped
enough as it is. :) KC
*pulls out a ruler and slaps*
I get such pleasure out of that! *eg* >Disclaimers: I don't own them, Anne
Rice does. Just a parody here, and I make no money from this. None at all. We
know how these "spec writer's" live. >Please don't sue a true fan and a
walking advertisement for you!!! soon she'll make us wear those funny cardboard
body signs. >And I didn't write the song, Simon and Garfunkel did.
>
>Spoilers: Yes. Read the Chronicles. You'll like them.
> well... most of them... >Warnings: If you are one of those people who
periodically announce religious revivals when the world is
about to end, please don't take offense. And so you see, brothers and sisters,
that the spec writers are indeed evil and should be cast out as
members of Satan's army! Can I get an Amen?
-------------------------------------------------- Cold. Warm I Am A Rock
Written and sung by Simon and Garfunkel Cold. Frosty
Frigid
Frozen
Without Heat
To be less than comfortably warm. For weeks upon weeks this last winter had
been deathly cold. even for vampires > Every night mortal reports shivered
under fur-lined coats and read off the latest tally of homeless bodies with
nameless faces. Anyone who didn't live under a bridge was huddled beneath
woolen blankets, and those bridge dwellers have the warmest spots you know. The
trolls give them goat-skin blankets. and the luckier were nestled in mountains
of down comforters. Still, they were cold. The great cold king under the
mountain? No one used electric blankets. imagine anyone using those things! How
last season! Power had been cut off to certain parts of the city when frozen
trees dropped their icy loads first the birds, now the trees! No one is safe!
onto the wires stretched across New Orleans. Like a body losing blood to vital
organs, the entire metropolis had fallen silent. Even the dropping snow was
louder than the human populace. The flakes were so large that one could
actually hear them hit the ground with a soft *piff*. One. Then two. Then two
thousand. Before the televisions had died, the weathermen had reported that it
was fallen at three inches an hour.
Ridiculous. This is New Orleans. But it's cold. You describe this very well,
dear. I'm cold and it's summer here in Ga! Men and women wearing crucifixes and
carrying placards shouted that the end of the world was nigh, that mankind was
about to receive God's wrath for its multitude of sins. Meteorologists just
said it was the jet stream and ocean currents in the South Pacific. Prepare for
a dry summer next year.
Then the radios had gone out as the station antennas lost power. Choose your
own explanation. No one was out on the streets. The men and women wearing
crucifixes and carrying placards were hiding from God's wrath under blankets
sipping tepid cocoa and playing Scrabble. It's too cold for a religious
revival. hehehe... that's funny. ;) It's too cold for Milton, Louis sighed,
looking up from the lines. He'd thought reading about Hell, with the fiery pit
of black molten flames, would warm him up. It only made his fingers cold as
they poked out from his blankets to hold the book. He put the book down and
withdrew further into his cocoon. soon he would be a beautiful butterfly! You
could have all the money in the world, but you can't buy heat if there is no
electricity. "Chere, would you like to come to my bed tonight? It would be
warmer." and far more attractive, I'm sure. *g* An hour ago, Lestat had asked
it haltingly, in his best Captain Kirk impersonation afraid to offend somehow.
Louis should have taken his offer, he knew it. He'd known it the moment his
maker had asked. Lestat's body would be warm and soft, and he'd have held his
favorite fledgling close in his arms, with the covers around them as they lay
alone in the silence-- The silence, the silence, the deafening silence!
Weighing them down in the dark until they both went mad and began chasing down
rabid squirrels for hats! "No, thank you, Lestat. I will be fine." Lestat was
saddened, there was no doubt of that, even though he showed no outward sign of
pain. He'd looked as if he was about to say something, then just nodded in
acquiesance and retreated in defeat to his own room. Still, the door to his
room was left open, hopefully. Louis knew without seeing, and he merely shook
his head. He knew he would not enter this night. But why not? he asked himself.
It's not evil. You want to. He wants you to. Why don't you want to sleep by
him? Louis leaned back in his nest, thinking. The entire room was dark. He had
exhausted his candle supply nights ago. Only a pale crescent of waning light
was reflected from the moon, which dissolved behind the thick storm clouds. Not
one star to be seen. The street lights were all asleep, save for one flickering
holdout at the very end of the block. Yet somehow he could still see the saucer
snowflakes. There were crystals on the windowpane, and daggers hanging like
icicles from the rain gutter. Even sound seemed frozen, except for the endless
*piff* on the snow outside. Would they have to shovel the door out again?
This is so Louis and Lestat. Beautiful here! =) No, I don't want to go outside
again, he groaned. His boots had chilled with the first step this evening. Bad
enough his victim's blood had nearly frozen in his veins, but then the bath was
broken, too. At first it had just refused to give hot water, yielding only
tepid puddles. Then the pipes had iced solid. That was three days ago. For
someone who had once gone weeks between baths, he now despaired going so long,
if only for the therapeutic effects. Louis needs aromatheraphy or something.
Tebetian warming techniques. And what do I need relief from? heartburn?
Indegestion? Mensteral cramps? well... maybe not the last one... ;) Compared to
others, his life was relatively simple. He had his books, a soft bed, clothes,
his own room in a beautiful house... 2.5 kids and a white picket fence...
companionship? Ah, there's the rub. But why? He isn't cruel to me. He treats me
kindly. He brings me whatever I need or desire. He talks with me when I want
to. He lets me alone when I want my privacy. So why do I withdraw from him?
Because he hurt me. A long time ago.
But he still hurt me. Pretty, pretty writing! I'm drooling on this one. Louis
closed his eyes. He just wanted an easy life. How much easier can it get? All
right, he wanted an easy relationship. Relationships aren't meant to be easy.
Even I know that, and I'm just a vegetable. Where had he heard that? Oh, yes,
Lestat's weeklong infatuation with Batman, the Animated Adventures. A
surprisingly good show. For a cartoon. *cheers from the bat fan* He smiled and
adjusted his position. A radio fell from the nightstand, turning out. The end
of a song started to play. Louis looked at it curiously, then nodded. He had
tuned to a Florida station before the power went out. The batteries must be
going now.
"That was 'Don't Fear the Reaper' by Blue Oyster Cult," and those of you SK's
Stand fans knew that already. *wide smile* the disc jockey hummed. The volume
was rather low. "Now for our daily Simon and Garfunkel dose, it's 'I am a
Rock', only on your most music station, KLAQ." clack? *g* Louis listened
absent-mindedly, looking back toward the window. He could fall asleep now, if
he tried. A winter's day, in a deep and dark December, I am alone.
Gazing from my window to the streets below on a freshly fallen silent shroud of
snow.
I am a rock. I am an island. Louis frowned at the radio. Such a quiet song. How
soft, like feathers stabbing your brain. How many times
had he heard this song before? His legs were sore from walking yesterday in the
frost. I build walls, a fortress deep and mighty, that none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship. Friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock. I am an island. He shook his head with a nervous chuckle, just an
odd coincidence. He adjusted his position again, trying to stop his legs from
hurting. Still cold.
Don't talk of love. Well, I've heard the word before.
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I'd never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock. I am an island. No use. His body was in pain. He shouldn't have
walked so far, Lestat had warned him it was too cold. But Louis could take care
of himself, couldn't he? Damn, his muscles were sore. His joints hurt. His back
hurt. His heart hurt somehow. I have my books and my poetry to protect me.
I am shielded in my armor,
hiding in my room.
safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock. I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain.
And an island never cries. Such an annoying song. It wasn't even three minutes
long. Just a short vignette of nothing, that's what. No substance. Just a
complaining whine set to music. It has no meaning. None! temper, temper, Louis!
hehehehehe.... I guess it's a good thing he didn't burn the house down, or
Lestat for that matter, to keep warm. *g* The batteries were dying. He could
tell. The volume was disappating until there was nothing left, and the room was
silent once more. Well, that was certainly pointless. He pulled the blankets
closer around himself. No, he was still cold. It was impossible to get warm.
Louis lowered his head in defeat, and tightened his hold on the thickest down
comforter. With a muffled whimper he sat up, then put his feet on the floor.
Cold, even through the carpet. He made his way over to the hallway and kept
going until he reached the open door. Lestat was in bed, unmoving as if he had
turned into an ice sculpture. His eyes barely flickered, betraying the life
inside the shell. Too cold to move. "Lestat?" awwwww!!!! The elder looked up
and smiled softly. "Yes, chere?" May I join you?" "No, I have had my
masturbational pleasures for the evening, merci." "Of course." Lestat
rearranged himself slightly to accomodate his fledgling, who quietly lay beside
him. Lestat: Mind the Playboy's, chere. Lestat hugged him against his body,
never complaining of his cooler body. Blankets rustled over their bodies.
Lestat's gentle breathing broke the silence. Louis smiled. Warm. The End That
was cool. (no pun intended! Really!) I hope you write some more soon, ok? You
keep churnin' em out and I'll keep readin'! *g* *hugs*
Kabuki
